


Collection of 15x20 Codas

by bluerosebouquet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Supernatural (TV) Spoilers, this is what they deserve and i will give it to them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosebouquet/pseuds/bluerosebouquet
Summary: I'm gonna fix the Supernatural finale if it's the last thing I do.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

Dean has no clue where he’s going. He just gets in the Impala and…goes. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, he doesn’t have to be anywhere. The sky is clear, a cloudless blue, the temperature is perfect, and he can drive with the windows down, rolling through the asphalt that cut through the forest, listening to his favorite cassettes.

He’s cruising along, just about to switch the tape from Metallica to Motorhead, when something catches his eye. It’s a little turnoff, almost hidden in the trees, but the sign where the mailbox should be (guess there’s no USPS in Heaven) says C. Winchester. He rolls to a stop and throws it in reverse, not really thinking about why exactly, but just feeling the kind of pull that told him he needs to see whatever was at the end of this road.

The driveway isn’t too long, isn’t too short, perfectly wide enough for the Impala, leading him to a bright little clearing facing a clear glass lake. There’s a detached garage nestled in between the tall trees, and a small house positioned with a perfect view of the water. It’s such a pretty place, and something tells Dean to get out of the car. He follows his impulses, turning off the car and leaving the keys in the ignition, no one’s going to boost it in Heaven, after all.

He walks around the side of the house, feeling a sense of calm familiarity wash over him, even though he’s certain he’s never been here. The view is killer, with two deck chairs sitting at the shore of the lake, like they’re meant for him.

He takes one step towards them, when he hears the back door of the house creak open. He whips around, hand going to the gun that likely doesn’t fire anymore, only to have the air taken out of his lungs.

It’s Cas.

Cas, in a t shirt and jeans, with messy hair and a wide smile on his face, striding towards Dean.

Dean doesn’t even realize his legs are carrying him forward until they crash together, and he clings desperately to Cas’ back, trying to control the shaking in his legs.

They collapse on the ground together, Cas still laughing, running his hands through Dean’s hair.

It takes Dean a minute or two to get control of himself, of his breathing, but when he pulls back, he’s greeted with a wide smile.

“You made it,” Cas smiles wider at him.

“ _I_ made it?”

They laugh at the echo of their words, bouncing between now and Purgatory all those months ago, when he had thought he had lost Cas…again.

“What is this place?”

“Well, there aren’t shared Heavens anymore, but Jack…he figured I might like a place like this.”

Dean huffs out a sigh, drinking in Cas like a man dying of thirst would drink water. He can’t get enough of him, he’ll never be able to get enough.

“Cas.”

“Dean.”

“I-” he takes a deep breath, willing, at long last, to let go of the years of tamping down he’d been doing, “It’s always been you, man. You know? All this time, I kept thinking that it was me that wanted what I couldn’t have, that there was no way you could, you know, feel that way about me. Because I thought I was broken, that, that I was poison, but you showed me that I’m wrong. That I deserve you. I love you too.”

If Cas had been smiling before, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now, and it was so blindingly bright, so pure, so beautiful, that Dean doesn’t even hesitate, he just leans forward and kisses him, like he’s been doing it all his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back again babey.

More than anything, Dean remembers the pain.

It’s funny, you know, he’s had so much physical pain in his life, so many times he’s been cut and bleeding and broken and bruised, that you’d think it would all kinda blur together, but there are several moments that just...stick out.

The Hellhounds ripping him to pieces, the way he felt his skin tear under their claws, being stabbed by Metatron, Cas beating the shit out of him in the crypt...although that last one may hurt for different reasons.

All this to say, Dean knows pain, but the pain of being skewered by a damn piece of rebar, not even taken down like a respectable hunter, that sticks to him, clings to him like an invisible sheen of sweat.

He wakes up gasping for air, looking around the field that he’s laying in. So...he made it. This is Heaven. Great.

Look, it’s not like he’s not grateful to be here, it’s certainly better than the alternative, he shivers a little at the thought, but trapped in his memories? Ugh.

In the distance, he can see the outline of a building that looks for all the world like the Roadhouse. Hey, might as well start somewhere.

The building is just as he remembered it, chipped, peeling paint, a shitty old porch, the whole nine. The view is better, all mountains and trees and clear blue sky. Okay, this really isn’t so bad.

“Well, at least I made it to Heaven.”

“Yep,” comes a too familiar voice to his left, and there, like he’s been waiting for him, is Bobby. He can tell it’s his Bobby too, the Bobby that had left them all those years ago, the Bobby that was his real father. But he doesn’t recognize this, when was Bobby ever at the Roadhouse?

“What memory is this?”

“It ain’t, ya idjit,” Bobby laughs, and Dean’s chest aches a little for some reason.

“Yeah it is,” as much as he wants to believe it, he knows good things don’t happen, not in his experience, “Cause the last I heard you were in Heaven’s lockup.”

“Was. Now I’m not. That kid of yours, before he went...wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out, and then he, well, set some things right. Tore down all the walls. Heaven ain’t just reliving your golden oldies anymore, it’s what it always shoulda been. Everyone happy. Everyone together.”

 _Well, almost everyone_ , Dean thinks, the ache in his chest deepening at his own thoughts.

“Rufus lives about five miles that way with Aretha, thought she woulda had better taste. And your mom and dad, they got a place over yonder. It ain’t just Heaven, Dean. It’s the Heaven you deserve. And we’ve been waiting for you. ”

He smiles at Bobby, unable to tell him that it isn’t, it couldn’t be, because the last piece of the Heaven he deserved was in the Empty.

Bobby hands him a beer as Dean takes in the remade world around him, thinking about Jack.

“So Jack did all that?”

“Well...Cas helped.”

Dean’s eyes snap to Bobby, who’s looking at him a little too knowingly. Had he always been so obvious? Probably so.

Before he can say anything else, before he can bolt straight in whatever direction Cas might be in, the door next to him creaks open, Dean turns, expecting Ellen or Jo or Ash or even Benny, only to see Cas, not in that trenchcoat, not in a tie, but in a flannel and jeans, looking so desperately beautiful that Dean can’t bring himself to move. This can’t be real, this can’t be real, he can’t really be getting this, getting everything he wanted. He had never, ever thought he would get anywhere close to peace, to happiness, with Cas taken from him, with words left unsaid hanging in the air.

“Hello Dean.”

The words are enough to make Dean stand straight up, forgetting Bobby, forgetting the beer in his hand, forgetting everything in the whole Universe except for the angel. He was finally done searching for him.

“Cas,” Dean grabs him with a ferocity that would knock most people to the ground, “I missed you.”

“And I you,” Cas whispers, his arms winding around Dean’s back.

Is this what breathing for the first time felt like?

Dean pulls back. He takes a breath. It’s time.

“Cas, I need to say something.”

And this time, Cas doesn’t interrupt, he just smiles.

“I love you, too. It’s always been you.”

Cas presses their foreheads together, and Dean feels like he could run for a hundred miles, like his heart had grown ten times it’s normal size, finally able to accept and hold the love that he was receiving, never have to worry about being too broken again.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He repeats the words a thousand times, even knowing that he had eternity to say them, it would never be enough.


	3. Coda 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't have nightmares anymore, but where does that energy go?

Dean has to get used to not having nightmares when he gets to Heaven.

Nightmares, bad dreams, they had been a part of his nightly routine for as long as he can remember. Even before his mother had died and he had had to grow up too fast, he remembered having bad dreams, with shapeless things chasing him or falling when he tried to fly. So when his mother burned and his father became a shell, Dean was used to the dreams that woke him with a racing heart in the backseat of the Impala.

Sometimes, as shitty as it was, they were his only constant, he could always count on the nightmares.

So in Heaven, with no bad dreams to haunt him, it was sometimes like his body needed the release, like the pent up energy of him not waking up every night covered in sweat and reliving some twisted memory was holding itself in his chest. On those nights, after who knows how many days of peaceful rest (and a full eight hours at that) Dean would wake with a gasp and a start, sitting straight up in bed.

There was no bad dream to run from, but it didn’t make the experience any less jarring.

The first time it happened, he had just started awake, unsure of what brought him out of sleep, but feeling like he had just run miles. He had downed what felt like a gallon of water before collapsing back into bed, not even bothering to pull the sheets up. He didn’t think about why he was firmly tucked in when he woke in the morning.

He spent a lot of his time just being with the people he had lost. Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pamela, Bobby, his mother, Charlie, even Benny (who, when Dean had finished giving him a bear hug, had said something distinctly vague about how he got raised from Purgatory, but Dean hadn’t felt like asking many questions), but it always felt like something was missing. He tried to shake it, he had everyone back, everything was fine.

The second time he woke from this non-nightmare, it’s like he can feel a presence in the room with him, but by the time he flicks on the lamp by his bed, there’s only an empty room. He must have been imagining things.

He gets to learn how to fish, how to cook better burgers than even Ellen, he works on the Impala. He and Jo dance to every Bon Jovi song on the jukebox, and Dean drives until he finds a deserted clear lake in the shadow of a mountain, and he builds himself a little cabin, where he can come when he wants to get away, his own slice of Heaven in Heaven itself. It’s great, but there’s still that hollow ache that sometimes creeps in at certain moments: when “Kashmir” plays on the jukebox, when the sky turns from orange to dusky pink when the sun sets, when the lake turns a perfect shade of blue.

He pushes it from his mind. Or, well, tries to.

The third time Dean wakes, it’s more violent: he wakes up gasping and thrashing, trying to get out of his bed and get away from the danger that was all in his head. He imagines strong hands on his face and his chest, these calming, warm hands, and he doesn’t even open his eyes, he lives in the moment where he can almost remember the smell of that person’s hair, the color of their tan skin, the blue of their eyes. These memories calm him so much that he’s almost certain he’s asleep before he hits the pillow.

If this is the Heaven he deserves, surely he should be blissfully happy, so why does it feel like a piece of himself is missing, locked in a place that he will never be able to find. He doesn’t mention it to anybody, but he feels like there’s whispering behind him when he gets too quiet at the Roadhouse or at his mother’s house when he stops by for dinner.

The fourth time Dean wakes, he goes from lying down to half standing, starting to run from nothing again, even though there were no dreams to make him run, he knows he has to. He collapses on the ground, his foot twisted in the sheets, and he tries to free himself, acting less like a human and more like a trapped deer caught in a barbed wire fence.

“Dean, slow down.”

It’s the once voice that could make him stop, pull him out of whatever trance his brain had fallen into.

Those strong hands, the ones he was sure were only his imagination before, are back on him, one tenderly touching his bare back and the other reaching to untangle his foot from the wadded up sheets. His breathing hasn’t slowed, he feels like he might be hyperventilating.

“Breathe, Dean.”

His brain can’t connect what’s happening, because he knows that voice, even in the darkness, he would always know that voice.

“Cas?” he croaks out, fumbling blindly for the light by his bedside, trying to make sure this wasn’t another perfect dream.

“Yes, let me get that.”

The light flicks on, and there he is. Amazing how he can take all the air out of Dean’s lungs. He’s not in that stupid trenchcoat, not in a button down shirt and tie, he’s in a ratty t shirt Dean knows was in his dresser in the Bunker and soft flannel pajamas. The look is jarring but...fits him. It fits him so well.

“Cas?” Dean repeats, unable to take his eyes off of him, “What, what are you-”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your Heaven, so I’ve been...watching from the sidelines, you might say.”

“But I need you,” the words are out of Dean’s mouth before he can stop them, even think them through, “I, it’s always been you Cas. You know that? I’m not, I won’t be happy, really happy, until I have you.”

It’s sorta embarrassing, he feels like a girl, but when Cas’ face splits into a smile as bright as the sun itself, that worry vanishes.

They bridge the gap between each other simultaneously, and Dean feels like a part of his heart he’s kept so dead and buried has finally awakened, ready to make him whole, as he’s always meant to have been.

“Have you been watching me?” he asks sleepily half an hour later,lying in bed with Cas’ hands tracing a thousand intricate patterns on his skin.

“Yes,” Cas’ voice sounds sheepish, “I couldn’t stay away from you fully, and you’ve always been such an angry sleeper, figured I could save the furniture.”

“Stalker.”

Cas laughs.

“Only across Universes for you.”

Dean hums, letting his arms tighten around Cas’ waist, and slipping into a totally peaceful sleep, not marred by what ifs and could have beens and racing hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I hate the network lol. These writers, these characters, these actors deserved better.


End file.
